Chapter 14
Long before Jerry was born, a young Marvin Cradleman, recent Columbia Business School graduate, encamped next to an equally young man on a commuter train to New Haven. They both wore business attire; they both read The New York Times. The car was packed, with a liberal dose of World War II vets in full dress. It was 1947.
The young man’s thigh glanced against Marvin’s. Marvin reciprocated and a rhythm developed between the two of them as the train gently rocked along. Marvin got an erection. The man stood up and headed down the aisle toward the bathroom. He caught Marvin’s eye as he went in.
It was tight in there. The man unbuckled Marvin’s belt, hoisted him onto the sink and hungrily went down on him. The train whistle screamed with delight. They kissed afterward. Marvin took his phone number.
The call turned into a job. Marvin became the private secretary for millionaire Herbert Van Clief. The young man was his son. Who knew?
The son of a Congregational minister, Marvin entered a lifestyle unbeknownst to him. It wasn’t so much the opulence, and there was plenty of that, like the family train car or the staff of twelve to manage the estate, it was the behavior. His boss never arose before noon and then descended the stairs in formal attire for lunch. Alcohol consumption was practiced like a Protestant ethic gone bad.
While drunk, the fellatio man wrapped his car around a tree. Thus his life came to an abrupt end. The evils of alcohol were treated like a penance during mourning, then life returned to normal.
With proficiency, Marvin managed Van Clief’s home, staff and business affairs. He catered to his boss’ every whim no matter how frivolous.
“Marvin, Marvin…”
As Marvin’s head wobbled back and forth from Van Clief shaking his shoulders, he made out the time, 4:13 a.m.
“Get me a mansion in Newport, Rhode Island,” he said. His breath reeked. “And I want it on the beach. I’m not going to let that damn John Astor one-up me. By the end of the day, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
And he did. It wasn’t beach front. Walking distance would have to do.
For Thanksgiving, Van Clief’s retinue traveled to New York from Virginia in his private train car. Once there, they occupied an entire floor at the Plaza Hotel. The first evening they went to a private performance by Ella Fitzgerald at the Copacabana.
Back from the show, around 4 a.m., in the Oak Bar, Marvin caught the eye of a bus boy. In the men’s room, Marvin was treated to a blow job. While the man’s head bobbed up and down, Marvin noticed how rank the bathroom smelled, and in a five-star hotel, no less. It bugged him. A eureka moment came with his drum roll climax: deodorant for urinals.
Van Clief loaned Marvin start up money. As well, he connected Marvin with his friend Pierre duPont. Within a month, one of his scientists devised a prototype urinal cake. Van Clief filed patent and incorporation papers, and Deodorex was born. Marvin was designated president and CEO. A reconfigured factory in Mexico churned out the cakes for pennies a piece.
With clever marketing – “Our cakes have a special place!” – sales soared. Deodorex appeared in restaurants, hotels, schools, theaters, churches and yes, the Plaza Hotel. In two years, they expanded into Canada, Mexico and Europe.
When Marvin, ahead of schedule, paid back his start up loan in full, he learned Van Clief was – “Didn’t you read the small print?” he said. – the sole owner of the company. Marvin winced at his rookie mistake.
“Oh, and, by the way,” Van Clief said as he dismissed Marvin from his office, “you need a wife. An unmarried man your age is suspect. I don’t want the Board whispering about you.”
That night he twisted in bed. At 2 a.m., he ripped the covers off, his body drenched with sweat, another Eureka moment. He scratched her name down.
The next day, Marvin checked with the Columbia Business School alumni office and obtained Marie Lacy’s forwarding address. He remembered her well. Not that they were dating, much less close friends, but they were in the same social circle.
By evening, he was on a train to Lynchburg, Virginia. The following morning, with the sparrows in song, he taxied over to the address, rang the doorbell and was greeted by a disheveled old man with shocks of white hair.
“Is Marie here?” said Marvin.
“What is your business?”
“I am a classmate of hers, and I was in the area, so I wanted to say hello.”
“And who are you?”
“Marvin Cradleman.”
The old man scrutinized him long and hard. “Just a moment.”
“Well, land sakes,” cried Marie. Her hands shot up to her blushing cheeks. Her brown eyes shone bright through her rimless glasses.
“Good morning,” said Marvin in a casual tone as if out on a morning stroll.
“I’m speechless.”
“How are you?”
“Fine. I’m working at a local bank while I take care of my father. My mom passed away. Lung cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
They sat on the porch with a couple of You-hoo’s admiring the parade of cars with their white wall tires. Old magnolias lined the street on both sides. Marie wore a light cotton dress; Marvin, a not so crisp white business shirt and khakis. They both were trim and of moderate height.
“Marie, with my work demands, I haven’t given any time to my personal life. I want to change that. I want to settle down and raise a family, and I now have the financial freedom to do that.
“I’m really not one to beat around the bush. I think we would make a great team. I would like to share the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
Marie went pale. “Marvin, we don’t know each other.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, are you currently engaged with anyone?”
“No,” she said.
“So, it’s possible?”
“Yes,” she said and blushed.
Their eyes met.
Marvin dropped to one knee. “Marie, would you marry me and stay with me till death do us part?”
“Marvin, I don’t know what to say. I wish you wouldn’t crouch there like that. Sit back down, please.”
“I know what you’re thinking. I’m crazy. I’ve lost my mind. Look, I lost too many friends from the war. I know how swiftly life can be taken. I don’t want to miss out. I want it all. I do know you. I was aware of you all through business school. You and I can have it all.”
“Yes, Marvin, yes,” she blurted out. “I can’t tell you how much I want to get out of this town.”
Marvin took care of the wedding; he paid for everything. The Van Clief estate made an impressive spot for the ceremony and reception, and it was not that far from Marie’s home town. Her attending relatives gawked.
Marie’s wedding dress was straight out of a fairy tale, satin white with a never-ending train. Wearing it transported her into a dream she was afraid to even acknowledge having. She couldn’t have been more swept away. How she wished her mom could have seen it.
They honeymooned at the Plaza Hotel. With Marvin holding the door open for her, Marie entered the Oak Room where the maitre d’ greeted Marvin with a wink. Their theater tickets for that evening to A Streetcar Named Desire were orchestra center. Marie marveled how he had all these connections. Afterwards, he whisked her into a horse and carriage in Central Park. As the horse clopped along, Marvin tucked a blanket around Marie’s legs.
Back at the hotel, Marvin waited anxiously in bed while Marie seemed to take forever in the bathroom. Finally, she emerged and doused the light. He heard her pad over to her side of bed, then he heard the airy descent of her nightgown. She slid in beside him.
She lay inert, face up, eyes closed, legs spread apart. Marvin got to work before she fell asleep. He practiced romance as if he had learned it from a book, and he had. Just before they married he purchased The Ideal Sex Life off an advertisement in Real Men magazine. He attended to her every need, and asked for nothing in return.
From the Plaza, they moved into a newly built home in Tenafly, New Jersey, an upscale bedroom suburb.
Marvin played the part of husband to a T. If they were going out and running late, he waited without complaint while she finished dressing. Each birthday he presented her a tasteful article of jewelry, each anniversary, a dozen long stemmed roses with an appropriate note of sentiment.
About a year later, out from those same inert, splayed legs emerged Jerry Kradleman.
Marie grappled with this wailing baby. Stranded in an empty house, with a husband who was never home, a distant family, and no friends, she struggled to contain her panic. Dr. Benjamin Spock’s Baby and Child Care became her Bible. She soldiered on. Her dream of business ownership would have to wait, relegated into the shadows of her mind, like a favorite piece of jewelry mislaid in a forgotten drawer.